


Forever and a Day

by PlayingChello



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Marco's Birthday, Tooth Rotting Fluff, clumsy Jean, gay married husbands, sorta - Freeform, super dork Jean really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But it’s Marco’s birthday and he wants it to be perfect.</p><p>But Marco coming home early was not in the plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever and a Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsRenai21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsRenai21/gifts).



> Hhhhhh, so this is a birthday oneshot for the amazing incredible perfect [Jenny](http://msrenai21.tumblr.com) who has some really great writing please check it out she deserves way more views and support for all the work she puts in. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNY!
> 
> This... is a lot of fluff. Like it's so sugary sweet I was gagging at how fucking syrupy this is. You've been warned I guess.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com).

The door opens and Jean panics.

Well, he was already pretty panicked. Trying to juggle the cake in the oven, the icing he’s mixing on the counter, the vegetables steaming, and the chicken in the slow cooker is a _lot_ of work for one person by himself. But it’s Marco’s birthday and he wants it to be _perfect_.

But Marco coming home early was not in the plans.

“Jean, sweetheart, I’m home!” he calls from the entry way. 

Jean rushes to the entryway, hair askew and flour all over himself, to stop Marco from coming in any further. “Wait!” he yells, throwing his hands up in an attempt to block the other man from the rest of the apartment, “You can’t come in yet!”

Marco looks at him oddly for a moment then breaks into a wide grin, “And why not?” he asks, cocking his head and sticking his tongue between his teeth.

“You… you just can’t! Please, Marco, you weren’t supposed to be home yet. Give me, like, ten more minutes.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime, exactly?”

Jean’s eyes dart around in exasperation as he searches for an answer to the question, “I don’t know? Maybe grab a Starbucks or something? Wait, no, don’t. I don’t know, Marco. Please?”

His husband holds up his hands, “Alright, I’m going! I wonder whatever could you be up to?” He finishes with a cheeky grin and turns to leave again.

“Marcoooo,” Jean groans. But Marco simply waves with a brilliant smile thrown over his shoulder as he leaves the apartment again. Jean slumps in on himself with relief but then immediately shoots back to the kitchen. If he only has ten minutes, he needs to get this cake frosted _now_.

He’s barely finished plating the chicken when the door opens again, “Jean? Can I come in now?”

“Just a second!” Jean calls back, putting the finishing touches on the plates before rushing them to the table to set them carefully in their places among the candles he’s lit on top of their nice table cloth. He gives it a quick once over before deciding it’s as good as he could hope and rushing over to where Marco’s still waiting in the doorway. “Hey, handsome. Happy birthday.” He leans up for a quick peck on the lips before taking Marco’s hand and leading him into the apartment.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Marco says, eyes tracking their joined hands rather than the sight he’s being led to.

When he does finally look up, it takes his breath away. The lights are turned off and the room is lit only by the two candles on the dining table, flickering softly over the lovely place settings across the table from one another. It’s elaborate and so very _un_ -Jean, but at the same time, it’s exactly what he should have expected. Jean watches him nervously until Marco looks at him and smiles, “You did all this for me?”

His hand scratches the back of his head bashfully, “Well, yeah. Figured I’d try and do _something_ for your thirtieth birthday. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to. As long as I’ve got you, it’ll always be perfect.”

Jean’s face warms as a dusting of colour rises to his cheeks, “Jeez, you big sap. Just sit down and eat, would you?”

Marco laughs, then does as Jean says and takes his seat in front of the beautifully presented dinner. Once they’re both settled and Jean is looking at him with the gooiest eyes, so full of love and expectation, Marco picks up his fork and dives right into the chicken. Jean looks on intently, waiting for his reaction. He chews quickly at first, then slows until he stops, just barely managing to hold in a grimace. Jean’s eyes go wide, “What’s wrong?”

Marco forces himself to swallow, and Jean watches the way it nearly sticks in his throat. His husband takes a big swig of the wine from his glass before finally meeting his eyes again, “Jean. This chicken is really underdone. It tastes really good otherwise, though,” he adds with a sheepish smile.

Jean’s head nearly lands in his plate of food when it slams down on the table as he lets out a long groan. “I _knew_ I should have put it in earlier. But Eren kept calling and trying to talk to you and it took three tries before he finally figured out how to switch your default contact number to your cell and I had to go to three different liquor stores to find this wine that Armin was raving about and then Levi was getting on my ass about work and how I shouldn’t have been allowed to take the day off and the cake- The cake!”

All of his embarrassment about the rambling rant he’d just gone on is forgotten as he launches into the tiny kitchen to bring the cake out, a desperate attempt to save the evening he’d planned so painstakingly for. But evidently it is not his night. When he spins around, cake balanced on one hand, his thigh catches the handle of the stove and sends him lurching forward toward the table off balance. In some attempt to save the cake from falling, he rushes forward, trying to get his body back under the cake. But that just sends him flying into the dining table, where he knocks his wine glass over and lands face first into his plate while the cake continues flying until it lands on the back of the nearby couch.

Jean doesn’t move for a long time. He just sort of slumps in defeat of how the perfect, romantic, birthday evening he had planned had taken all of about ten minutes for him to _completely_ fuck up. He spends the time in which the sauce from the chicken soaks into his hair and the collar of his shirt thinking about all of the things he’d expected from this dinner. How Marco would come in after work (on time rather than early) to a table set with perfectly cooked chicken and a romantic dinner for two. How they would eat slowly, talking about their days and just life in general, laughing at one another’s stories. How, when they finished eating, Jean would slowly bring out the cake, lit with exactly thirty candles and Marco would blow them out with some perfect wish and a big, happy smile. Then, casually, while cutting the cake, Jean woul—

The bell like laughter brings his fantasy to a jarring halt. He remembers where he is, what’s going on, how he tripped and now everything is ruined. The he realises the laughter is _Marco’s_ and that means _Marco is laughing at me_. He brings his head up to look at his traitorous husband with a sharp glare. But Marco just laughs _harder_ and tears start streaming down his face because Jean is _covered_ in the sauce from the chicken and the cake is falling apart on the couch and everything is just such a beautiful mess.

“Stop laughing!” Jean manages to get out, sounding much less angry than he’d hoped, and rather more upset.

Marco spends another several moments trying to calm himself down before he can speak again, “I’m sorry, Jean. I just… You look so heartbroken that this whole thing wasn’t perfect and exactly how you wanted it. But that’s okay! _This_ , the mess, the clumsiness, is perfect. It’s so _you_. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Jean’s eyes widen a moment while he processes the comment, baffled by how _perfect_ his husband is, and how glad he is that they’re spending forever together. Then his eyes narrow and he looks back toward the kitchen. And idea works it’s way into his head, _maybe I can still pull this off._ “We should move, stupid stove will be the death of me.”

That earns a little giggle from Marco, “There’s going to be stoves no matter where you go, love.”

Jean spins and takes Marco’s hands, urging him to stand, “But if we had a _bigger_ kitchen, it wouldn’t be so in the way. And then I wouldn’t trip and ruin your whole birthday dinner.”

“It was already pretty ruined when you didn’t cook the chicken through,” Marco quips, earning an exaggerated scowl from Jean. “But why would we move, this apartment has gotten us through plenty, and it’s more than big enough for the two of us.”

Jean pauses and stares right into Marco’s eyes, the most beautiful brown with flecks of gold and the tiniest touch of green near the middle. A dopey smile creeps onto his face as he thinks of all their years together, and how it could be even _better_. “What if it’s not just the two of us?”

Marco cocks his head and Jean’s smile widens as he watches the gears turn in his head. Watches his expression morph from confusion, to disbelief, and then break into overwhelming happiness. “You mean- you- we- _Jean!_ ”

“Let’s adopt. We’ve been talking about it for ages and never really came to a decision. So let’s do it. Find a nice little family house and adopt. We can have a _family_.”

Marco grins, “I thought you said Eren was like having a hyperactive child already.”

He laughs at the way Jean’s face twists before the smile is back, “Eren can be the crazy uncle that the kids like better than us because he lets them get away with all sorts of stupid shit.”

“You know you’re going to have to watch that mouth of yours from now on,” Marco chastises through his positively _giddy_ grin. But then his eyes widen in awe, “Wait- _kids? Them?_ Are you saying- more than one?”

“As many as you want.” Jean leans in for a sauce covered kiss and Marco just can’t seem to care too much about the mess he’s making of the two of them.

“I love you, Jean.”

“I love you, too. Until you’re old and grey and covered in liver spots instead of freckles. And our _kids_ have to feed us through straws. Forever and a day.”

Marco smiles into their kiss, “Does that mean you love me enough to clean all this up?”

“Not a chance. I’m blaming my tripping on your stunning good looks.”

They stumble into the shower together and it isn’t until the next morning that they find themselves slaving over the stain in the couch from the cake. When they give up trying to get it out, they decide it’ll be a good story to tell their kids when they ask about it.


End file.
